


Not Unchanged

by Saentorine



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Bathing/Washing, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Developing Friendships, Drinking, Dwarves, Elves, Fantastic Racism, Fellowship of the Ring, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Nudity, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20820224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saentorine/pseuds/Saentorine
Summary: And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard of in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed.""Say notunscatched, but if you sayunchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth."Upon entering Lothlorien, Legolas is weary of his traveling companions, especially Gimli, and desperate for the company of his own people-- but does not leave the wood unchanged. Explores some of Legolas's prejudices and the initial development of his friendship with Gimli.





	Not Unchanged

_And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard of in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed."_  
_"Say not _unscatched_, but if you say _unchanged_, then maybe you will speak the truth."_

_Legolas was away much among the Galadhrim, and after the first night he did not sleep with the other companions, though he returned to eat and talk with them. Often he took Gimli with him when he went abroad in the land, and the others wondered at this change._

-The Fellowship of the Ring

***

Since they had crossed the Celebrant into the peace of Lothlorien, Legolas had several times spoken aloud his wish that he should have come in the spring when the forest floor and canopy alike were reflections of golden foliage. However, he kept to himself his other wish: that he should have come in different company.

The remaining eight companions of their fellowship were certainly a pathetic assembly when they arrived on the border of Lothlorien. Nose stuffed from the winter chill, Sam huffed and puffed through his mouth with every step. Frodo, for all his well-meaning attempts at diplomacy, trembled and swayed from the exertion of his burden and looked constantly on the verge of heaving. Merry and Pippin were more subdued in grief but Legolas had learned better than to turn away from either of them too long, lest one of them through some mischief wake _another_ sleeping monster. He wished Boromir would simply stop _trying_ to speak Sindarin; his strange Gondorian dialect was embarrassing and Legolas was worried enough about how his own woodland accent might sound to their hosts. Even Aragorn, who otherwise knew how to conduct himself in the company of Elves, had let him down by suggesting they _all_ go blindfold through the forest-- as if that were fair! 

However, Gimli himself was the worst by far, putting their entire quest at risk by threatening to storm off alone simply because a sovereign people might suggest a little basic security. After all, had they not just tramped through the devastated Moria and seen what his kin had awakened? It was not as if the Galadhrim had no good reason to be suspicious. It was embarrassing enough to witness the Dwarf make his indignant threats to march straight back out again, but utterly humiliating to have to walk blindfold himself through territory of his distant kin simply to satisfy the whims of a Dwarf.

From the beginning, Haldir seemed to regard the entire party with detached amusement-- even Legolas, as if the strangeness he had walked in with might have rubbed off on him as well. Despite the loss of Mithrandir hard on his mind, Legolas's heart had lifted to walk in the forest he had known only in song, but with every caution from the guard that the Dwarf was _his_ responsibility, it had fallen again precipitously.

He was not sure whether their summons to the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel would be a trial or relief. Haldir passed word that Gimli had been given leave to move freely within the realm, so at least he no longer had to worry about that-- nor listen to his complaints-- but their pitiful band came bearing grievous tidings and little hope. 

Indeed their news brought despair to their hosts-- but only the Lady offered assurance that Mithrandir's death was not in vain and that Gimli could not be blamed for his wish to see his kin in one of the greatest halls of his people, and that hope remained so long as their company remained true. But then she fell silent, lips unmoving behind a soft, mysterious smile, as she seemed to stare directly into Legolas alone and yet into each of them at once, her voice now within his own mind instead.

_You are indeed welcome, son of Thranduil_, she repeated her husband’s initial greeting. _You have traveled far past the borders of your homeland and all you have known; now take comfort that in this realm you will have peace and safety for as long as you stay._

_This journey, should you continue, will take you many places where you are unknown and unwelcome. You must trust yourself against trials of the like you have scarce imagined-- and know that some that feel not welcome themselves might be made so by you._

_You must soon make a choice. You will be welcome to stay or welcome to go, as you choose._

And she released him-- just as she released the others at the same time. It was as if a collective sigh was released around the room. Legolas and Aragorn had kept their eyes on her, too practiced in the manners of the Eldar to avert their eyes when directly addressed, but the others had bowed their heads, terrified or ashamed to look the Lady in the eye as she communed with each in private. Gimli’s eyes shone with tears as he raised his gaze again.

***

When Celeborn dismissed their weary party back to the grounds below, welcome to their hospitality and rest, Haldir pulled Legolas aside. He braced himself for yet _another_ warning to keep an eye on the Dwarf, but the sentinel had apparently taken the Lady’s clearing of their laws against Gimli to heart. Instead, he indicated a particular _talan_ where a group of them would meet after dark, inviting Legolas to join them. He did not mention whether the others would be welcome, but Legolas’s heart lifted at this warmer invitation.

He remained with the company as they were guided to their accommodations on the ground-- Legolas had not minded their previous sleep high in the trees, but the others were happier this way-- and given provisions for the night, but as darkness fell and lamps bathed the forest city in warm light, Legolas joined Haldir and his companions as promised. 

It was change indeed to be welcomed as an Elf amongst Elves. No longer stern and unyielding as their guard posts demanded, even after the news of Gandalf’s death they were cordial and welcoming, passing him a goblet of wine. Legolas found it soothing as slipping into warm spring water to speak freely in his native tongue without having to bother with translation for others. The language of the Galadhrim had been removed long enough from his own people’s that there were indeed some differences, but here they found them amusing rather than troubling and began to laugh and repeat the others’ strange phrases and changed words.

Haldir had a mandolin and some of the others had flutes and harps; they brought them out and began to sing, and Legolas was pleased to be able to join in on some familiar songs he had grown up with. His heart ached with memories of home and he got to thinking that if he had only completed the task he was originally set to when he set out from his father's halls, he might have already returned.

He was asked to tell some tales from the road, beginning with his errand to confess the escape of the prisoner Smeagol-- which he had recently begun to feel less ashamed about, since starting on their quest as it was clear by now all was tied to the machinations of the Enemy, which his father's forest kingdom had little power to contest on its own. Some of the Galadhrim had served in the last great war against Him, and were shocked to learn that Legolas was too young to have been there himself. At first he bristled at their surprise and concern, having already proved his mettle in the journey that had brought him thus, but he also understood the tenderness in their instinct to protect him-- so much like his father’s, even as he had long felt stifled under it. As more of the Eldar heeded the call to the West, fewer of those remaining felt called to bring new life into the lands this side of the sea. It was folly to risk the young, the rarest of their people. They urged him to consider remaining in the safety of their realm.

“If the company of Nine that Lord Elrond appointed has already failed,” Haldir pointed out, “it would not be cowardly to part ways before certain doom, but sensible.” 

“You are your father’s only child,” added another. “He may have sent you with his blessing as far as Imladris, but surely not so far as this.”

“If an Elven guide is needed with the company, there are some Lothlorien might offer-- though the Ranger seems competent enough on his own.”

Their implication that Legolas might not be the best fit for the task he had been assigned stung but also rang true; he had offered what skill he had in sight and bow, but he had not led the company nor influenced their course as might be expected as the eldest in their midst. He did not want to believe that Lord Elrond’s choice had been wrong, but he wondered if there were others who could do better.

Before it grew too late Legolas returned to the beds laid out for his traveling companions, only half-listening to what little they would share of their communion with Lady Galadriel. Having been blanketed again in the comforting tongues of home, his weary mind tuned lazily out from the company’s voices as he fell asleep.

***

The company woke like souls reborn to a morning clear and bright. It was strange bliss to rise at leisure and take time for a breakfast (or two!-- as the Halflings insisted and were accommodated) without the urgent call of the road. 

The winter morning held a chill, but nevertheless the burbling fountain at the center of the city beckoned to them as a luxury long denied. Sam had made habit of dunking his entire head when there was water enough to submerge it, but for most of their journey “bathing” for the company had consisted of a bracing splash to the face and a perfunctory wipedown beneath the smallclothes-- and on the frozen peaks of Mount Caradhras and in the depths of Moria even that had not been possible. Besides, by the time they stopped walking for the night, generally all anyone could manage was a quick meal and as much sleep as they could get. 

The Hobbits were first into the water, shedding their clothes in a run. They were thrilled to find the fountain warm like bathwater heated in kettles rather than the icy streams they had waded through days before. Frodo’s exhaustion was such that at first he could do little more than float on his back, the shirt he kept on to conceal the ring billowing around him like a jellyfish. Pippin, however, was energized coming off better nights’ rest and the prospect of more to follow-- and was that roast meat he smelled coming from somewhere?-- and splashed vigorously with all of his limbs.

“Pip, that Bombadil fellow was awfully forgiving of you flooding his bath, but you could _try_ not to make such a mess of this fine Elven establishment,” Merry scolded him.

As if Merry’s caution were a challenge, Pippin flopped over onto his back and kicked with far more fury than necessary to propel himself, soaking them both in the process.

“I guess they’ll stop him themselves if they’re bothered by it,” observed Sam, nodding his head towards the high branches of the surrounding trees. Several sets of eyes were visible and movement detectable amidst the golden leaves; in the safety of Caras Galadhon they were not quite as discreet as when guarding the outer posts.

Aragorn was already nearly finished with a rushed and unthorough scrubbing; he washed hastily as if cleanliness itself was an alien state to one so used to the persistent grime of the road. At Sam’s comment he stiffened and rolled his eyes, as if this had happened before, then quickly shook out his hair and retrieved his clothes. Boromir, however, was apparently flattered as much as surprised and stood a little taller, opening himself towards the audience with a proud grin.

Meanwhile Gimli sat at some distance, fully clothed, puffing on his pipe and looking for all the world as if this was what he preferred.

“Are you going to bathe? Surely you would rest more comfortably having washed,” Legolas asked him, yet to undress himself. Certainly Gimli was no less desperate for a bath than the rest of them-- and he didn’t want to say as much, though their company had become accustomed to each other and their unwashed bodies, their stench must be obvious and odious to those who had welcomed them. If they were going to stay a while, they ought to make themselves less offensive to their hosts.

“I’d wash more comfortably without an audience,” Gimli sniffed.  
  
Legolas’s eyes flitted briefly to trees. “Pay them no mind. Many have never seen a Dwarf before—and certainly not without his clothes.”

“And it’s my duty to satisfy their curiosity?” 

Legolas felt a familiar prick of irritation at the Dwarf’s damnable pride. What was a blindfold or a few watching eyes to the dangers they had faced and would continue to face on their journey East? There was no sense in making such a fuss when there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the behavior and no harm in going along with it. He needn’t take it so personally, at least.

However, the lingering memory of Lady Galadriel’s voice stopped him putting his thoughts to words. _Some that feel not welcome themselves might be made so by you._ He sighed. “Shall I find you a more secluded place?” he offered. “It should be of no concern to the Galadhrim so long as I accompany you.”

Gimli’s squint was skeptical as he considered whether this Elf he had known scarcely a season—and whose folk had themselves imprisoned his own father for mere trespassing, not long ago-- could be trusted more than the Elves of Lothlorien he had just met, but it had been nearly a month since Rivendell and a body could only go so long without a proper bath.

They made their way down the paths dappled with the late winter light filtered through the thick canopy of trees. It was difficult for Legolas to contain his persistent awe for the beauty he had heard of only in songs; he narrated his thoughts on the scenery and landmarks of Lothlorien as he had continuously since they had come to the Nimrodel, glowing about the springs fed by the tributaries of the Celebrant and serenading the mellyrn with snatches of half-forgotten songs from his youth. 

Gimli, however, was quiet. 

“This should serve our purposes,” Legolas finally announced, indicating a spring with deep banks some way from the path. Notably the water was a cloudy white as if it had been swirled with milk.  
  
“Is it meant to be that color?” Gimli wrinkled his nose, their perilous journey having honed his instincts for suspicion.

“There are minerals in it that are good for the skin,” he explained. “And the cloudiness will shield you should our erstwhile audience follow us.”

Gimli gave a gruff sniff in response to the first point-- foolish to think that a Dwarf would pay such things any mind!-- but the opacity of the water was a thoughtful consideration.

Gimli stepped some distance away where he could remove his garments in privacy behind the bole of a particularly robust mallorn. Legolas turned his back and sat against a tree on the far side of the pool. After a long pause without any sound of Gimli entering the water, he called behind him without turning his head: “I am not watching you. We came all this way because you did not want to be watched.”

A splash indicated the Dwarf had heard him and Legolas remained turned away, gazing up into the canopy of leaves, until Gimli called out to him that he was finished and dressed.

“Would you mind it so much if it were the Lady of Lothlorien who watched you?” Legolas asked with a wry grin as they made their way fully dressed back to civilization. He had seen how the Dwarf’s eyes had brightened at Lady Galadriel’s unexpected compassion.

Gimli suddenly reddened. “Do you think she would?”

***

Haldir was called back to his watch at the northern borders, but Legolas joined his new Galadhrim companions in their _talan_ again that night. The wine flowed so heartily that Legolas dozed off among them, as comfortable and familiar as home-- or as home might have been if the encroachment of Shadow had not driven them below ground some centuries ago.

While the others continued to splash in the central pool when necessary, Gimli would not. The Galadhrim who otherwise kept a polite distant from their guests, appearing only when they anticipated their needs or brought message from the Lord and Lady, had not lost their interest in spying on them and Gimli had not failed to notice.

It was clear he was reluctant to ask for assistance again, but at a point it was foolish to deny himself the comforts only available here. “I’ll learn the way on my own soon enough,” he insisted as soon as he made his request, clearly defensive that he need rely on the Elf.

"It is probably better that you are not wandering around alone," Legolas assured him, though Gimli seemed to find it anything but assuring.

"The Lady declared that I am free to pass within these lands," Gimli reminded him with indignation. "There should no longer be any suspicion against me."

Legolas did think it worth the effort to argue with him, but simply agreed and guided him back to the pool, the walk to which he enjoyed for its own sake. Once again, he sat against the bole of a tree to give Gimli his privacy and his own mind some solitary rest. 

However, instead of a splash, he heard grumbling. “Come now, you needn't make your own separate journey to bathe simply for my modesty,” Gimli chided him. “I won’t make a show of myself for folks who won’t so much as show their faces to me, but I don’t mind bathing alongside a companion I’ve traveled with all these months. Unless it is you that minds _me_ seeing _you_.” 

Legolas wasn't particularly enthused about the prospect of bathing in the Dwarf's company, but Gimli had offered something of a challenge. “I don’t mind. What should an Elf have to be ashamed of in front of a--" he turned and stopped himself when he saw Gimli's eyebrows start to rise.

After undressing Legolas made a shallow dive into the water and emerged to float on his back, releasing a thin spray from his mouth like a fountain. “So you are not just beardless,” Gimli observed as he floated past. “You’ve not a hair on you at all aside from that crop growing from your scalp.”

“I have too!” Legolas protested, standing and holding out an arm to indicate the soft golden down that covered his limbs.

Gimli peered at it intently as if he needed spectacles and laughed. “Like the skin of a peach! I know you’ve some centuries on me, Elf-- but if you were one of my folk, by the hair on you I’d reckon I was swimming with an infant!”

“I should think it quite clear by other means I am _not_ an infant.” Legolas narrowed his eyes. He had seen Gimli look before he had entered the cloudy water.

Gimli snorted. Legolas had indeed made a show of standing in full view on the bank; it had been impossible _not_ to look. “Of course the tree looks taller when the grass around it is so low.”

Legolas dashed his hand against the surface of the water, sending a spray towards Gimli. “I brought you here to spare you the mockery of the Galadhrim, only to be target myself!”

“I thought you had nothing to be ashamed of in front of my kind,” Gimli countered, forcing his own wave forward with both hands.

Soon enough both were splashing with the merry abandon of Merry and Pippin, all of the grief and uncertainty of the quest washed away with the bathwater.

***

As days passed in Lothlorien, there was no avoiding discussion of the journey ahead-- but they were still filled with doubt in the loss of Gandalf. Besides Boromir’s unflinching will to return to Minas Tirith with whomever would accompany him, there was nothing but Frodo’s imperative to guide them. Despite Elrond’s advice and his promise to lead them, Aragorn remained undecided in their course. 

With the prospect of departure looming, Legolas reveled in the comfort of his nights in trees among his people. _Take comfort that in this realm you will have peace and safety for as long as you stay_ the Lady had told him. _ You will be welcome to stay or welcome to go, as you choose._ Could he indeed remain in Lothlorien, at least for a time before returning to his home? Would the company fare better without him, or with someone like Haldir instead? 

His walks with Gimli had become an equally certain part of his days-- no longer just to escort him around the forest, but on walks of leisure. “It feels strange to keep still when we have spent so much time on the road, and have so much further to go,” Gimli explained of his restlessness, but Legolas did not need a reason to spend more time beneath the trees. He was beginning to enjoy these walks almost as much as his nights among the Elves.

However, Legolas was surprised that one day Gimli desired a walk just before sunset. “I will accompany you, but we must be done by dark,” he agreed with hesitation.

“Should we fear the darkness when we are so deep in Lothlorien?” Gimli asked. “We have not been troubled by orcs since we passed into the Naith.”

“No, I have somewhere to be at nightfall.”

“Ah, indeed,” Gimli nodded, having noted Legolas’s nightly absences. “You have made some fast companions in our time here. Better company than that you came with, I suppose.”

Legolas ignored the bitterness in the final comment, his heart still troubled at the question of whether he should stay or go. “It will not be long before spring comes here and the forest will be all gold and silver,” he sighed. “And I have not been home in months; I was never meant to have ventured farther than Imladris. At least your kin expected you to journey as far as Moria and uncover what has become of it.”

“And it will be some time before they learn of it from me,” Gimli pointed out, “for I have other tasks appointed to me first.” He watched Legolas carefully, for the same task had been appointed both of them-- and Boromir and Aragorn had warned them both in their own way of how the ancient forest changed folks who passed within.

“We have not met such comfort since Imladris, nor shall we again until this deed is done.”

“We might find comfort in Minas Tirith as well if Boromir has his way. In different times, we might have stayed as comfortably in Moria,” he reminded him. “Yours are not the only people that will take in travelers.” 

“Even in the fairest age, Moria would be nothing close to Lothlorien.”

“Moria might not have met your standards of beauty," Gimli replied, "but it would have bested them in hospitality, if I dare say so."

Dare, indeed; instinctively Legolas’s heart lurched into his throat at the insult. "What have you wanted for in your time here?"

"What is hospitality to you?" Gimli practically burst. "In Moria, at my word my kin would have welcomed everyone brought with me as if they were family. Even _you_, despite your race, and despite your own father once having imprisoned mine for _daring_ beg aid on his lands-- we would have given you food and ale from our own tables and held you not at arm’s length, but fully in embrace. We would still welcome you, not because we are naïve or careless about our safety, and not because we do not remember past deeds-- but simply because when we welcome a guest into our home, we _treat_ him as one.”

Legolas’s stomach trembled with indignation that the Dwarves might be better hosts than his people, but he could not bring his voice to argument. His seven other companions had been provided safety, lodging, and provisions, but indeed had barely spoken with the local folk outside of the practical niceties. Only Legolas had been asked to dine and drink among them, to share in their songs and merriment. Even when the Galadhrim had grieved Mithrandir's death in song, they had not included those who had witnessed it-- and Legolas had struggled to so much as translate their elegies.

“Two of you have shown me courtesy here,” Gimli added, a little more calmly, apparently referring to the Lady Galadriel and Legolas himself, “but as I haven’t seen one since our arrival and the other will not be seen with me in the presence of his own folk, perhaps I was a fool to ever believe any of the Elves’ welcome truly sincere.”

This time, it was Legolas who was silent as they walked the rest of the forest path.

***

“Are you asleep already? Come!” Legolas prodded the pile of blankets curled against the outcrop of rock Gimli had chosen to make his camp. Even in the assured safety of the forest the Dwarf slept best nestled within firm stone. He grumbled and cleared his throat as he was roused. “Follow me.”

Gimli was sluggish as he followed, blinking and pulling up his boots. “What is it you want?”

“Come on,” Legolas continued to implore without detail, ushering him to one of the rope ladders up to the high _telain_. “You are not afraid of the climb, are you?”

“I’ve gotten used to it,” Gimli grumbled. “How, in so many centuries, have your folk failed to develop _stairs_?”

Legolas went up first and helped pull Gimli over the edge of the _talan_, where all of the Galadhrim waiting for him fell silent with curiosity. A couple of them laughed timidly, apparently believing it to be a joke.

“You have brought the Dwarf,” one of them finally observed in Sindarin, a statement that with it raised several questions. 

“Is he not welcome?” Legolas asked, feigning naivety as he climbed onto an empty cushion arranged in the circle of their meeting, patting another to welcome Gimli.

“In Lothlorien, by the Lady’s command-- yes,” he replied. His eyes darted briefly to Gimli, as if concerned the Dwarf might understand more of their exchange than he let on. “But he was not invited to this particular gathering.”

“We did not invite the Men or the Halflings, either,” another added. “Is it not natural that our folk should keep company among ourselves?”

“Is it?” Legolas tilted his head as he reached for a goblet of wine already prepared for him, its attendant apparently too shocked to reconsider the offer.

Gimli slid quietly onto a cushion and watched the exchange he could not comprehend, smiling dumbly as he waited for someone to speak to him directly or Legolas to translate.

“Have we offended you or been in any way unwelcoming so as to warrant this rudeness?” another asked.

“Am I the one being rude?” Legolas replied, relishing the silence that followed as none could honestly answer his question.

“Come now; give the Dwarf a drink,” Haldir’s brother Orophin finally sighed. “He is harming no one.”

Gimli sputtered thanks in the common speech but took a long draught, clearly relieved to have something to occupy himself with. “Tell them it’s good wine,” he muttered to Legolas after a moment.

“Tell them yourself,” he encouraged with a nod. “They know the common tongue better than they let on, and they could use the practice. All of the enemies of the one Enemy must unite if we are to have any strength against Him.”

***

They knew the time had finally come for their departure when Frodo and Sam returned after their own walk in the woods, Frodo looked more unnerved than usual. Before they were to depart the safety of the forest, they met with the Lord and Lady called upon them again to determine their resolve to proceed. The Lady cast her gaze upon each of them again in her silent way. Heart now settled, Legolas did not flinch; he had made his decision.

They were all pleased at the Lord’s invitation to feast with them at riverside before the departure, but none so much as Gimli, who practically glowed to be in the presence of Lady Galadriel again and hear her parting song. They were laden with gifts of cloaks and provisions for their journey and Gimli’s heart softened with gratitude for these tokens of hospitality and well-wishing. It would have seemed cruel to have asked him, "Is this the hospitality you had asked for?" so he refrained, but Legolas could not resist meeting his eyes and seeing the relief and gratitude that had brightened there.

As they paddled their boat out from under the hanging vines of Lothlorien into the open waters of the Anduin, Gimli reflected on his saddest in leaving its beauty-- and the beauty of the Lady who had been the first to welcome him and at the last accepted his seemingly odd request for a strand of her hair. Even if Gimli did not fully recognize the importance, if the Lady Galadriel had wished to make Gimli feel respected and renounced, Legolas knew there was nothing greater she could have done than her fulfillment of this wish.

"Your heart seems changed over Lothlorien as we depart,” Legolas observed, gentle with his words as the Dwarf paddled hard to distract himself from the memory so tender it had already made him weep.

"I daresay none of us have escaped unchanged, as Aragorn warned us," Gimli pointed out. Legolas smiled, recognizing that this was true.

"Perhaps in our wake, even Lothlorien has been changed as well.”


End file.
